


Cyclogenesis

by allollipoppins



Series: Keeping up with the Holmes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18-year-old Katsuki Yuuri, 21-year-old Victor Nikiforov, Case Fic, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Drama, I apologize in advance for killing characters and generally hurting people, Locked Room Mystery, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Sassy Katsuki Yuuri, Yuuri goes by Eurus for most of the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allollipoppins/pseuds/allollipoppins
Summary: Before and after he was Yuuri Katsuki, he was Eurus Holmes. Adopted son of Siger and Violet Holmes, and sibling to Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. But after 18 years of waiting, it is time for Eurus to come back home and solve his first case. And the final problem.





	Cyclogenesis

**Author's Note:**

> I promised you an origins story and here is the beginning! Though I am digressing from the 5/6+1 format because a) I'm a hoe who lacks imagination & b) I somehow am equal parts sadistic and masochistic. I am so, very sorry in advance for emotionally hurting characters or killing off certains faves straight from the start... you get to rant and insult me for that slight in the comments all you want, I won't be mad.  
> This is going to be a casefic, but given the nature and circumstances surrounding the case in question, it might not be as lively as you expect. This first chapter on its own will sound confusing until I get to writing chapter 2, but I swear things will get clearer in the end!  
> There are small references to previous works, nothing big either but subtle things, so I rec reading the rest of the Holmes crossover series before this one, please and thank you :)  
> Unbeta'ed as per usual. I own neither YoI nor Sherlock BBC.  
> My personal playlist for the AU: https://open.spotify.com/user/aril10ne55/playlist/0EP5sQjUKN35kqKefZP7oe

 

 

The school’s teacher council collectively let out a sigh of relief the day Sherlock Holmes finally left primary school for secondary, leaving behind him a horde of teachers who had sworn off dealing with any more Holmes children and parent-teacher conferences with Violet “I have six degrees and I’m better than you” Holmes and her henpecking husband Siger.

There were worst children than the Holmes brats, but they had been a living nightmare for both parents and personnel alike. Sherlock especially, the youngest of the two finding great pleasure in humiliating his home-room teacher and revealing whose parent was an alcoholic, who had eloped with the milkman, which teacher was screwing who… The apple had had to fall from a certain tree, for sure. It showed. In spite of being a model child their eldest, Mycroft had this insufferable air of pedantry and self-superiority to him that made him better to avoid.

Both siblings had been slightly more tame after the summer holidays half a decade ago, coming back a little more tanned than before from some country only snobs like the Holmes could afford. Though few had borne witness to this change, it didn’t last long, as good things tended to.

Needless to say, I won’t surprise you that the day Eurus Holmes arrived at school, the whole of the teachers’ syndicate held its breath.

 

Diotema Parker – or Didi, as most people had come to call her – almost had a heart attack when she read the piece of paper that came with it. The elderly lady peered down over her glasses, at the boy standing behind the window pane and shuffling his shoes on the tiles, eyes cast down as if his loafers – black, waxed, likely to cost more than her weekly pay – were the most fascinating thing in the world.

She frowned. “Holmes” wasn’t the most common name, but it wasn’t a rarity either. In this part of town alone, there was at least another Holmes – a sweet family really, with a little pig-tailed girl who had been wrongfully mistaken for a cousin of theirs for a time, before people eventually relented and she joined in staying away from the real Holmes.

But this kid, Sherlock and Mycroft’s sibling? No bloody way. Unless Mr Holmes had gone and done the dirty behind his wife’s back, or – God forbid, Mrs Holmes herself had eloped with an Asian man on one of her many conference trips abroad.

Squinting slightly, Didi assessed him. The boy behind her glass pane had Asian features, for starters, automatically barring any possible genetic connection to the Holmes. He wasn’t a gangly thing with spider legs and chalk-white skin, but his skin had a pallor to it that wasn’t uncommon in these parts of England. It was partially tanned though. The rest of him looked soft, his face round with chubby cheeks that made her want to pinch them and coo; his wide brown eyes were framed by long eyelashes and hidden behind large blue frames, and his black hair stood in a mess atop his head. If it hadn’t been for the glass separating them, Didi would have been tempted to just pat it down, smooth down the bird’s nest of his hair. The poor thing would probably just shriek and shy away from her touch, small and fragile-looking as he was. He didn’t even dare to meet her gaze, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

Shy, with Asian features and poor eyesight? Heavens, there was no way this little boy could be one of those infernal Holmes children.

The remaining issue was the name. “Eurus” wasn’t terribly common in this part of town, or even England. The Scots had their share of unique names, and the international students who came from French or German or Polish households, only to name a few, didn’t have overly complex names either. “Eurus” didn’t fit the boy. In great part because she felt it was a girl’s name – apparently Sherlock was too, if you believed the rumours. But she supposed it was a nice first name. So much more charming a name than diminutives like Bob (how does William even get shortened to that) or Dick (are parents truly this cruel these days?).

“So...” she started, “Eurus it is, then?”

She almost cried when Eurus lifted his head to look at her, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. Such a lovely little thing. The way he looked up at her with his big brown irises, her heart constricted at the sight. The way her spaniel did when he wanted doggy treats than weren’t strictly speaking doggy treats.

“It’s pronounced “Euros” actually but yes” he muttered, pronouncing it in such a hushed manner that she couldn’t tell whether it was Ee-U-Ros, or Ee-ros. Oh well. She’d have time to perfect that.

“Got it,” she smiled. “Hey, out of curiosity, you wouldn’t happen to know Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, do you?”

Euros raised his eyebrows, before a huge grin broke on his face.

“I do. They’re my big brothers!”

 

Well, she’d be damned.

 

* * *

 

Eurus sighed when the cab finally pulled out in front of New Scotland Yard, the driver speeding up behind him as he took in the overly familiar sight of the police station.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

He quickly made his way inside, zigzagging between police officers and civilians who let him pass with a side eye at his hurry, but without further questioning. Used as everyone was of seeing him in the locals of Scotland Yard, there could only be one reason why Eurus Holmes present himself at the station on a school night.

Inspector Lestrade waved at him as he came closer to the counter, soundlessly calling him to his side as they took a turn towards the cells and away from the mess that reigned in the office. Eurus raised an eyebrow.

“What is it this time?”

Lestrade sighed in turn, guiding him to the back. “Drug possession and public consumption. Donovan was tempted to add “attempted assault on law officer” to his charges but I convinced her not to apply it since it didn’t go that far.”

“You should’ve let Sally do it,” Eurus grumbled. “I know I would have.”

Lestrade frowned. “You don’t mean it.” The police officer was aware of how tense could sometimes be between the Holmes siblings, especially the two eldest, but there was usually no problem when the last one was involved in their business. When he caught the way the younger man frowned, however, he wasn’t so sure.

“Bad day at school?”

“Nothing like that,” Eurus hummed, “just Sherlock being Sherlock. You know the drill.”

Lestrade nodded, conceding that he was at least right on that point. He unlocked the door leading to the private cells, extending a hand to let the other pass first, then following suit as he pushed through the door.

Eurus took in the sight of Sherlock, half sprawled on the floor, long legs taking most of the space while the rest of him was supported by the side of the bed bunk, head lolling slightly. As he came closer to the bars, Eurus took in his whole appearance as Lestrade unlocked the metal door. The veins on his brother’s neck stood out more than usual, and he was heaving as if he had been running prior to that. His skin appeared alarmingly pale too, moreso than usual, though the top of his cheekbones was slightly flushed and his blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery, squinted against the bright light. The raven-haired huffed. Not a heavy dose, but enough to get him high then. At least he didn’t look feverish under his coat, but he would have to check just in case.

“I’ll take care of it from there. Thanks again Lestrade,” he said, turning back to shake Lestrade’s hand. He fished for bills in the pocket. “How much do I owe you this time?”

Lestrade shook his head. “Don’t worry about it kid. I’ve got it covered.”

Eurus blinked. “But –”

“No “buts”, seriously. Just get him out of my sight,” Lestrade added before exiting the room.

 

Sherlock shifted from where he sat, groaning at the offending light blinding him.

Eurus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty.”

“It’s 7,” Sherlock grumbled.

“Damn straight,” Eurus dead-panned, “and way too early for you to get high, and for me to come and get you out. Y’know I ought to have taken my time, ask the cabbie to go for a tour of the city.”

“I didn’t ask you to come and pick me up,” Sherlock countered drily.

“No you didn’t, and the only reason why I am doing it because you’d rather it be me than Mycroft, or Mommy.”

Sherlock tilted his head to the side, reflecting. “True.”

Eurus kneeled next to him. “You feeling up to leaving?” he murmured, patting his shoulder. “Because as much as I’d like to stay and contemplate the newly-repainted walls of NSY, I’d rather get you out and fed.”

“M’not hungry,” Sherlock slurred.

Eurus smoothed a hand on his lower, hand sliding under his armpit to try to lift him. “Well you will be once we’re out of here.”

No sooner had he said it, almost having Sherlock fully up, that the brunette doubled over and pushed him aside, causing Eurus to stumble against the bed and hit his knees in the metallic railing. He hissed at the contact and turned to reprimand Sherlock, the words locking in his throat once he realized the state Sherlock was in. Bend over the toilet seat in the corner of the room, close to choking on his vomit.

He came up behind him, one hand sliding up and down his back in a smoothing gesture, the other coming under Sherlock’s chin until he could force his puckered mouth open again. Sherlock doubled over again as he pushed in, and vomited again. Eurus gritted his teeth as his brother coughed down the rest of his meal, but kept drawing imaginary circles over his coat.

“Come on,” Eurus whispered. “We’ll go to Angelo’s, get some takeaway. You liked that carpaccio he made for you the other day, didn’t you? With lots of fries too. And if you don’t want to eat all of it, you can always use it to study the decomposition of flesh under the influence of human-tampered manufactured chemicals.”

“I already did that,” Sherlock muttered against the ceramic.

Eurus nodded, though he knew Sherlock couldn’t see him from his position. “Okay. Or you could always feed it to rats, or we could get something else. Anything you want, as long as you get something inside your stomach.”

Sherlock stayed crouched, wheezing over the toilet seat before he straightened, wobbling on his feet and supporting himself on Eurus’ shoulders. In spite of his hunched form, he still towered over Yuuri by a good head or so. It was too late for him to grow an extra inch and catch up to him.

 

Eurus huffed, giving him a small smile. “Trust you to get high and cause public outrage on my birthday, of all days.”

“Birthdays are a yearly celebration that I find no interest or particular value in. It’s all “oh, Happy Birthday,” you were born xyz years ago and sooner or later you are going to die. Joy.”

Eurus tsked. “Not everyone is as much of a killjoy as you are, Sherlock,” he reminded him gently, in a soft voice.

They made their way quietly out of Scotland Yard, passing between everyone else in a breeze, no one paying much attention to the two of them.

Sherlock smirked once they had passed the entrance door. “You’re glad to be here. Admit it already.”

Eurus snorted. “What, glad to be there picking up after my washed-up brother and sticking my fingers up his throat instead of getting hammered with my friends?”

“You don’t like drinking anyway. You hate being out of control.”

“Don’t we all? I don’t get how you can even get your kicks out of it.”

“I was bored,” Sherlock simply stated, and Eurus didn’t bother to hide the small peal of laughter emerging from inside him. Sherlock joined him in, though it sounded more like a cough than a chuckle, and soon the two of them were giggling like children on the pavement.

 

A comfortable silence settled between them as they walked together for a while, relishing in the cool evening air and the last moments of peacefulness before rush hour, Sherlock leaning over his shoulder. They were almost near the closest cab stop before Sherlock broke the silence.

“Did you get your birthday present yet?”

Eurus tensed next to him, but recovered quickly, continuing to walk. “No. Apparently you are my birthday present since no one else is going to come and get you out of prison.”

Sherlock ignored the unsubtle change of subject. “I know what it is.”

“Of course you do.”

Sherlock paused for what felt like forever, before daring to speak again. “Do you want to know what it is?

Eurus sighed, part exasperated and part fond. “No, Sherlock. It’s a surprise and knowing what it is beforehand ruins the element of surprise.”

“But would it really be a surprise?”

Eurus stopped, turning to face him. The smile on his face was gone. “Sherlock, that’s enough.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. You already know everything you need to know, what’s one more futile piece of information when you know enough to just investigate it already.”

“Sherlock,” he started, feeling all patience starting to fade.

Sherlock kept on as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I mean, just think about it. You could have solved the case ages ago, back when you had received your first clue alone, you can’t just keep stalling your parent’s murder case every year. How do you even know if you’ll catch the murderer? What if they’re already gone?”

“Sherlock!” Eurus snapped. Sherlock stumbled back, surprised by the tone of his voice. Eurus himself almost recoiled when he realized how loud and dry he had been. Some people stared at the two of them as they bypassed, throwing glances here and there. Eurus had half a mind to scream at them too, but took a deep breath instead, closing his eyes to focus.

“I, I just…” Eurus forced himself to straighten his posture, just as he had learned in dance classes. Curve your back, throw back your shoulders, inhale slowly, exhale slowly, inhale, exhale, and repeat.

“Look,” he began when he got his voice again, “I understand that you are concerned about me, in your own way. Okay? I just...” he heaved a little, voice shaking. “I know you care, even when sometimes you don’t give a crap about people, but this… this isn’t some kind of sick and twisted mental masturbation, alright? This is not your case to solve. This is my problem, and it means the world to me.”

Eurus sniffed, “So if you could, you know… not back off, but give me time, yeah, I think I’d really appreciate it.”

Sherlock kept his eyes on him even as he turned to the side, rubbing the stray tears that threatened to escape, sniffling and trying to catch his breath. His face had softened, a barely perceptible shift in his features, but it was there regardless. Eurus would know it anywhere.

“Come on then,” he said, using Eurus’ own words. “You said you’d pay me a carpaccio. With lots of fries.”

Eurus laughed between the smalls hiccups and sobs. “I did, didn’t I?”

 

* * *

 

In the morning, after they had crashed at his and Phichit’s apartment and he’d wake up to see his brother gone, Eurus would find his birthday present on the bedside table, messily wrapped in tissue paper. Smiling, he uncovered the worn-out, original copy in French of Perec’s “La disparition” with a single note inside:

 

_To **E** urus._

_Never forget where you come from._

_S.H._

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments and bookmarks are always appreciated :)  
> I'm @allollipoppins on tumblr & @AriL10N355 on twitter, hmu!


End file.
